


Call Me Hopeless

by incogneat_oh



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Underage Drinking, robin!jason, weird families bonding weirdly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9211586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: “I used to hate these parties,” Dick says, and Jason’s startled into a laugh.At the older boy’s questioning look, he explains, “I just, figured I was the only one.”





	

“Oh my goodness, what a sweetheart! And so handsome, in his little suit!”

Jason scowls, the heaviest, scariest scowl in his repertoire. But the woman, gowned in a dress more expensive than his old apartment, lipstick smeared and her glass sloshing dangerously, is not looking at his face. 

Mournfully, he thinks, it’s probably better for Bruce this way. He’d better not make a scene at Bruce’s high society party.

So he turns on his fancy, expensive heel (it squeaks), just in case she was thinking of talking to him instead of about him, and casts his eye around for Bruce.

The whole place is full of well-dressed people talking too loudly and laughing, while waiters duck between them, ferrying drinks and canapés on silver trays that reflect the light from the Manor’s chandeliers. There’s a literal string quartet in the corner. Jason didn’t even know there was such a thing any more, outside of those old movies his mom’d loved.

And Jason just wants to plaster himself to B’s side. He doesn’t like crowds, doesn’t like strangers, doesn’t like it when people recognise him, or when they ignore him like he isn’t even here. But he’s not deaf, or stupid. He knows what they say about Bruce, about him, and. Well. He doesn’t want to give anyone ammunition, so he’s mostly trying to keep to himself, to make an impression that’s separate from Bruce.

And even though Alfred assured him his suit was a perfect fit (“very dapper, young sir,”) he feels uncomfortable, sure he must stand out. He might as well wear a sign.

Looking into his glass, though, he smiles. Trust Alfred to think of everything; he’d made sure there was sparkling apple-juice for the younger guests, distinguishable from the champagne only by the tab of red tape around the stem of the glass. 

(Earlier in the night, he’d tried to trade in his juice for a real drink, if only to see if he could manage it.

He hadn’t even taken a sip before Alfred had been right behind him, smoothly taking his glass and substituting it back for his kiddie-one. Saying, “I trust you’re enjoying yourself so far, Master Jason?” and smiling. 

Jason had grinned back, said “I’d be enjoying myself a whole lot more if you’d gimme a real drink, Alfie. C’mon, I won’t tell.”

The butler had said, “More than my job’s worth, I’m afraid,” and brushed his shoulder with a gloved hand, giving him that warm, knowing smile. And Jason could read it very clearly, which is why he hadn’t bothered to try the alcohol stunt a second time.)

Cramming a few of Alfred’s pancetta-and-blah-blah canapés into his mouth, Jason finds himself wishing there was someone here close to his age. 

He’d seen one kid before, a pale little guy with dark hair who was lingering by the drinks table. And Jason had thought for sure he could convince the two of them to have some fun like playing video games upstairs, or at least talk about something besides school and what it was like to live with billionaire Brucie Wayne, when the kid had caught sight of him. His big blue eyes had gone wide and panicked, and he’d turned around and practically made a run for it, and Jason hasn’t seen him since.

Probably hiding from the street kid. 

Jason sighs, suddenly morose, automatically looking for Bruce again; and the man’s there, huge and impossible to miss in the middle of a small crowd, laughing and throwing his arms wide, animated. 

And Brucie stops laughing, then, turning. Scouting the room, his eyes eventually finding Jason. And he smiles, a big one, a real one, and Jason gives up, making a beeline for the centre of the ballroom. 

“Here he is,” Brucie says, proud, reeling him in gently by the back of the neck. Pressing him tight against his side and ruffling his hair. “How’re you enjoying the party so far, sport?”

Jason eyes the group that’s gathered around Bruce, casts around for something nice to say that won’t make him sound stupid. “Yeah,” he says, “The band is great.”

And Bruce squeezes his shoulder, tight, reassuring, says to the men and women tittering around them, “You’ve all met Jason?” 

“Hi,” Jason says nervously, pressing further into Bruce’s warm side. Pretending not to hear the ‘aww’s and ‘what a darling’. 

“Oh the poor dear, Brucie,” says a lady in red, smiling down at him. Jason thinks he might like her; her perfume’s sweet and she’s wearing a very pretty dress. Her eyes are kind. “You know how tiring these parties can be, especially when you’re new to them.”

Bruce’s brow wrinkles, and he looks down at his watch. He says, “I guess it is getting late. And on a school night, too…” He looks worriedly down at Jason, says, “Whaddaya say, Tiger? You want to head on up to bed?” 

And Jason… pauses. Is he supposed to pretend he wants to stay? “I–” 

“I’ll come up and check on you in a little while,” Brucie tells him, and Jason relaxes.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, trying to sound a little reluctant. Let them think he’s obedient instead of desperate to escape. Then he smiles up at Bruce’s upper-class buddies, says “Well gee, it was really nice to meet you all. Goodnight.”

And this time, the coos and ‘oh, how adorable’ are actually kind of gratifying. Who says he can’t turn on the charm?

“G’night B,” Jason says, more quietly, and the man ruffles his hair again, releasing him. 

“I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Bruce tells him again, quietly this time. Not for the audience. Taking his apple juice and depositing it on a passing waiter’s tray. And after Jason’s turned away, he hears Bruce say, “We should probably try to keep it down from here, ha ha! Let the kid get some sleep!”

Jason ducks and weaves his way through the milling crowds, headed for the stairs. He casts a quick eye around for Alfred, but he can’t see the man, so he goes straight up, shedding his bow tie as he goes, beginning to unbutton his shirt. 

He goes directly to his bedroom, locking the door behind him. 

He sheds the rest of his suit, swapping it out for his pyjamas. Then he drapes it neatly over the back of a chair, even though he hates it. Then, pausing, he unlocks the door. Because Bruce said he’d be up in a minute, and Jason knows Bruce won’t let anything happen.

He gets into his clean-smelling, enormous bed that’s covered in pillows and warm sheets, and sinks gladly into the mattress. Ears still buzzing from the lack of noise. He isn’t even tired, but he’s so happy to be away from the party that it doesn’t matter. 

He knows that patrolling tonight is off the table, but he feels a little antsy. The party had been suffocating. He’s just beginning to wonder if he can be bothered turning on his light to read when he hears a knock at his door. 

“Hey– I can come in, right?”

Not Bruce. But still familiar.

Jason sits up in his bed, frowning. “Yeah,” he says, and the door opens.

Dick Grayson stands in the doorway in a faintly rumpled suit, his hair scruffed up and his tie hanging loose. He smiles, big and easy, says, “Didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Jason says. “I only came up a minute ago.” And, “Are we… going out, tonight?”

“God, no,” he laughs, crossing into the room. Kicking off his shoes without a thought, making for the bed. Just remembering to shut the door behind him. “Just wanted to chat. Thought tonight’s a good night for it.” And then, “You mind if I–?” he sits – flops, really – on the bed beside Jason.

From this close, even in the dark, Jason can see the hollows of dark-bruised skin under his eyes, the pull of exhaustion at his mouth. 

“Were you… at the party?” Jason says. 

“For a bit. I only got here a couple minutes ago,” he says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, but stuff’s pretty awkward with Bruce. So I figured with the party, I could come by and still stay under his radar.”

“What,” Jason says. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing bad,” Dick assures him, smiling again. Says, “Also, hi.”

“Hello,” Jason laughs, starting to relax. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, leaning back against Jason’s pillows. “Yeah. Well I mean, on the one hand you’ve got you, a lil baby Robin learning to fly. And then me. Learning to fly solo.” He stretches, then, eyes closing briefly. And Jason wonders what it must be like, to go out there without B. Without Alfred to come home to…

“I used to hate these parties,” Dick says, and Jason’s startled into a laugh.

At the older boy’s questioning look, he explains, “I just, figured I was the only one.” 

Dick smiles at that, folding his hands over his stomach. Eyes dark and focussed on the ceiling. He says, “When I was… younger, I hated the way everyone looked at me. I hated how they all knew who I was and how I got there, and how, if they weren’t busy pitying me, for the orphan schtick, they just. Didn’t trust me, like I picked Bruce. Like I wanted him for the money, or something.” 

And Jason finds himself nodding at that, fervently. Even though Dick’s not looking at him. 

“Or how they’d look at me and then at Bruce, like he was crazy for ever picking me up. Like I was the… the physical proof of a bad decision.” And he says, “And now. I don’t know, it sounds dumb. But now I hate that no one know who I am. It’s like. I’m out of Bruce’s life completely, you know?” He scrubs a hand over his face, says, “Forget it, I’m being stupid.”

Jason doesn’t think so.

And then Dick sighs. Jason wrinkles his nose; he stinks like alcohol. “Are you… drunk?” he says.

“Woah,” Dick says. Sitting up, holding his hands out peaceably. “Let me put my cards on the table. I had, what, three–? drinks, and I am not that much of a lightweight. I’ve been, uh, working overtime, at my night job–” yeah, subtle, “–and I haven’t really slept in a couple days, but I’m definitely not drunk, okay?”

Jason considers Dick suspiciously. He does look more tired than anything else. “Okay,” he says, eventually. “Because if you were, you definitely wouldn’t be allowed in my room.”

“Fair,” Dick agrees. Looking at him and smiling crookedly. And then, “D’you know, I always wanted to be a big brother.” There’s something warm in his eyes. “I used to harass my mom and dad. I wanted someone I could teach to tumble, and fly– someone to talk to and hang out with. I was the only kid at the circus, you know?” 

And Jason nods, careful, unsure where Dick’s going with this.

Then, “And after my parents, and then when B took me in, I figured that was it for me. An orphan with no brothers or sisters.” He smiles then, widely. Says, “But now I’ve got you.”

“Me?” Jason’s incredulous, can’t hide it.

And Dick pokes his side, says, “Well, yeah. Bruce is our dad. We’re both Robins. Of course we’re brothers.”

And that…? That’s something Jason never considered. “I always kinda liked the idea of having a big brother,” he admits, quietly. Almost to himself. And, well, before the street, he’d always liked the idea of being a big brother, too.

“I mean,” Dick says, hands behind his head. “I get that it’s kind of a weird situation, that we barely know each other and stuff. But we are brothers now, and so we should be here for each other. And at the risk of making this awkward, I already love the heck out of you, Jason.”

And Jason… feels the flush rise in his cheeks, his mouth open and soundless, and Dick looks up at him and grins. Two months ago, Jason had had no one in the whole world. He counted himself immeasurably lucky to have Bruce– a dad– never mind Alfred. And now–

A big brother.

“And Bruce is great. But he’s also the worst, which, if you haven’t noticed already, you will soon,” Dick continues, without heat. “Things woulda been a lot easier for me if I had someone to talk to about him, when we were having problems. So. Maybe… I can help make sure you guys get on better than we did.” And Dick flashes him that smile again. Jason wonders if he’s imagining the hint of sadness there.

“I’d love having a big brother,” Jason blurts, his mouth finally working. He wishes it didn’t, damn. How embarrassing.

But all Dick says is, “Well that’s lucky,” with his smile stretching wide, eyes sliding closed.

“It must be, like, really weird to not get along with Bruce,” Jason says. Slowly. Chewing his words and tasting them. He hopes they don’t offend Dick. It’s just that he and Bruce are so close, and he can’t ever imagine what it would be like, to go from this to, well. Nothing. “I just mean. Yeah. It must be weird.”

“Bruce is a pretty difficult guy,” Dick says. “I love him a lot– I don’t think I’ll ever not love him, no matter what. But he’s still really hard to get along with, sometimes.” And the guy opens his eyes again, glancing over at Jason. “Things are rough with me an’ him right now. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be good buddies, ‘kay? All my stuff with him is def’nitely separate from you.”

“Okay,” Jason says, quietly. Lying down too.

Dick sighs again, turning his head into the pillow, and he still smells too much like booze; “Jason?”

“Mhm?”

“In th’interests of full disclosure,” he enunciates carefully, with difficulty. Smushed into the pillow. “I maybe had a bit too much to drink on… empty stomach.” And then he yawns, loud and wide enough to crack his jaw. It makes Jason wince, but Dick’s eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see it.

“Didn’t you have any of Alfred’s fancy puff-things?”

He cracks open one eye; “The crab ones, or the little quiche things?”

Jason thinks about it. “The quiche things? I think.”

“A couple,” Dick says. “They were good.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. The best thing about any party, as far as Jason’s concerned, is Alfred’s cooking. Alfred’s everything, really. And Jason wonders if Dick agrees– it’s weird to think of it, him and Bruce and Alfred, eating dinners together long before Jason knew they existed. “Hey, um, Dick–?”

And from the other side of the bed is a light, but undeniable snore. Jason looks over at him, in the semi-dark. His hair’s falling over his face and he’s still in his suit. He looks exhausted, dark-smudges under his eyes and his mouth open just a little. His shoulders have lost tension Jay didn’t know they were holding. 

And Jason feels his lips twitching in a smile and looks at the ceiling, listening to the faint but regular snores beside him.

It isn’t long before Jason hears a quiet, firm knock at his door– calls quietly, “Yeah, Bruce–” and the man enters. 

Jason wonders if he will ever take up as much space as Bruce does, even in a tired-looking tux, smelling of lingering aftershave and mixes of perfume. He’s smiling, Jason can see, even with the light behind him from the hall. 

And B takes a few steps into the room before his eyes fall to Dick, on Jason’s other side. Something in his face tightens, but his voice is relieved when he says, “I wondered where Dick had got to. I saw him arrive, and then I lost him.” And then he says, “I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t think he’d bother you.”

Jason sits up, then, to better see Bruce. Says, “He didn’t. He wanted to talk, is all.”

“Oh?” 

For all Bruce’s tone is casual, Jason knows he isn’t. He says, making an effort to roll his eyes, sound like his heart isn’t fluttering with something like joy, “Yeah, he was whacking poetic all about how we’re brothers now.”

“It’s ‘waxing poetic’, Jay,” Bruce corrects gently, but it’s absent. There’s something… wondering? on his features, something bewildered and bordering on glad. And he says, “That’s. That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, feeling the grin split across his face. “I always kinda wanted a brother.” And then, glancing at the slumbering Dick Grayson, he says, “But boy, what a goofball.”

“He sure is,” Bruce says, sounding exasperated and fond all at once. “I’ll get him out of your hair–” he says, moving to wake him, and Jason says,

“It’s fine, you can leave ‘im be for now.”

Bruce looks at him doubtfully, but Jason just shrugs. And Dick’s still snoring away, an exhausted puddle over Jason’s sheets.

“If he bothers you–“

“Don’t worry, if he acts out I’ll just kick’im,” Jay tells him, firm, and Bruce laughs.

“Okay.” And B sits on the edge of the bed, warm by Jason’s side. And he says, “How did you enjoy the party?”

Jason just wrinkles his face as answer, and Bruce sighs. “They aren’t much fun, huh Jay? You did very well, though. I know it’s hard.”

“I did like the music,” Jason says truthfully. “And Alfred’s food is great.”

And Bruce smiles down at him, while Jason obediently lies back down on the pillows. “We’ll be back to patrolling tomorrow night, so it should be a much more enjoyable evening. Okay?”

“Mhm,” Jay agrees, feeling the familiar jolt of excitement-and-terror that being Robin inspires, while Bruce draws the covers up to his chin and tucks him in comfortably. 

He looks over, then, at Dick. Sighs. He reaches over the top of Jason to brush back Dick’s hair, smoothing it off his forehead. Dick doesn’t even stir. And there’s something in his eyes, warm and unreachable, in the way he looks at Dick. And Jason thinks, if Dick could see that, the way Bruce lights up when he looks at him, they maybe wouldn’t be fighting so much.

Jason wonders if Bruce will look at him like that in a few years.

“Goodnight, Jay,” Bruce says then, stooping down to kiss his temple. 

It’s a new routine, the bedtime one, but Jason thinks– tonight– he can break the rules. He half sits up again, freeing his arms from the covers to wrap his arms around Bruce in a hug. Before the man can straighten.

And Bruce freezes for a minute, clearly unsure, while Jason squeezes him. “G’night, B,” he says, letting go. Sinking back to the bed.

Bruce is smiling, a big one for him, and Jason is equally glad and embarrassed. 

And neither of them speak while Bruce takes the extra blanket from the end of Jason’s bed, carefully laying it over Dick. In fact, neither of them speak until Bruce is almost out the door, and–

“Hey B?”

The man turns. “Yeah, Jay?”

“Brothers. Brothers can make fun of each other, right?”

Bruce looks considering. “So long as they aren’t too mean about it,” he says eventually, and Jason nods. 

“That’s what I figured,” he agrees.

“Go to sleep,” Bruce tells him. “I’m going to lock the hall door now, okay? Only me and Alfred have the keys to get in from the outside.”

“Thanks B.”

And the man gives them one last look before he closes the door again, heading back down to the party. For Bruce’s sake, he hopes it does’t go on much longer. How long can boring people stand around talking and drinking, anyway?

And Jason? He’s thinking of the most interesting way he can wake up his new, hungover big brother tomorrow morning. 

He smiles.

END.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr.](http://incogneat-oh.tumblr.com/post/87603065419/call-me-hopeless)


End file.
